The Prince Of Hell
by CrowleyKingOfHell666
Summary: Supernatural AU. Crowley is already known to the Winchesters, the King Of Hell, a figure head they never really met. But when Dean is dragged out of Hell, this is cause for them to investigate him. Dean is being tormented by ringing sounds and smashing glass wherever he goes; and in an attempt to solve this mystery, they summon Castiel, who turns out to supposedly be Crowley's son.


The doors to the old barn swung open with a force that reminded Dean of the strongest demons, only stronger than that. "What the hell?" he shouted to Bobby, who was stood next to him holding his gun loaded with rock salt, pointing it shakily at the figure appearing in the doorway. The lights flickered at first, and then one by one they blew; shattered glass flying through the sky like a tornado was stirring it up. Dean grabbed his gun from the table, and without a moment's hesitation he started shooting at the man walking into the barn. Bobby joined him, rock salt and silver bullets shooting across the room into the man's chest. He flinched a little as each one pounded onto his skin; they did no damage, except maybe leaving a faint bruise on his flesh that would arise later, a mark of a battle this creature would've won. Bobby looked at Dean in exasperation; there was nothing left to try. The man was close now, close enough to reach out and touch. Dean's eyes ran across his face, down his neck, and to his chest; when he then took the knife from his back pocket and plunged it into his heart. He looked up, sweat trickling down his face, into the man's glazed eyes. Bobby relaxed his gun, watching, expectant for the man to fall to the ground –but he didn't. Instead, he lifted his arm from where it was so rigidly stuck to his side and took a firm grip on the knife, sliding it out of his chest, dropping it to the ground in triumph. Dean expected this to be it, he was dead again. _Damn it_, he thought, he'd only just got out of Hell and now he was going to take a one-way trip back.

But as the man lifted his arm again, towards Dean's trembling body, another figure appeared in the darkness.

"Slow down there," the voice said, a strong voice, one of those voices that commands authority but with hints of self-consciousness, "what're you even doing here?"

Dean looked over the man's shoulder, into the darkness of the room, to search for a face to put to the voice. Bobby lifted his gun once again, and then shouted a weak warning, "I don't know what y'all are, but I will shoot you into next week nevertheless!" But this didn't work, as it was just greeted by a smug cackle from the shadows as the figure walked into the only light in the room.

"Just me, Crowley. No need to get your knickers in a twist old man, I'm not here to try anything funny. Just here to collect my property. Cas?"

The man, still stood watching Dean's every move, his right arm hovering in mid-air, turned to face Crowley. Dean scanned his back, making a note of his long trench coat and thin frame. _Who the hell is this guy, Castiel or whatever. Is he a demon after all? The rock salt didn't do a damn thing. What is going on? _

"Castiel, yes, so he's yours? What is he, your errand boy? Why the hell is he plaguing Dean?! Crowley, you're sick if you think mind games will help you and the rest of your pathetic race." Spat Bobby, full of rage, he didn't understand what was happening anymore than Dean and this stressed him. Bobby liked to know what was going on, all the time.

Crowley's smug smile spread across his face. "I never got to introduce Castiel to you? He's my son. Your future king."

Dean stared at Castiel in shock, as Castiel turned to look back at Dean, as if he was searching for his approval. Dean looked confused, his head shaking a little at the news spilling from Crowley's lips.

"He's an angel of darkness. The Prince of Hell."

A light crashed through the shadows, piercing the darkness, finding its way to Castiel. As it flickered brighter, two huge, black wings appeared in the moonlight, spreading wider and wider across the barn. His stance had changed from relaxed to powerful, like a soldier under the command of the King. His hands clenched into fists as the light disappeared as sudden as it had arrived, his wings once again hidden in the cover of darkness. Dean didn't understand what was going on. Castiel stepped closer to Dean, "I am an angel. An angel of the Lord. I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." His voice was shaky, rough, yet somewhat comforting.

Dean tried to hide his confusion with an argument. "What? Why the hell did you do that?"

"Dean, calm down. There must be a reason for all of this." Said Bobby, keeping a close watch on Crowley, who was pacing the barn in the distance.

Castiel came closer still, looking up into Dean's emerald eyes, which were slowly filling with tears he was fighting to blink back. "What's the matter, Dean? You don't think you deserve to be saved?"

Crowley clicked his tongue at Castiel, who turned his head to face him, and with a nod of the head, the two disappeared without another word. Dean and Bobby were left in the barn as a couple of the lights flickered back on, no noise but the sound of birds in the distance. Bobby started to head out of the barn, beckoning Dean to follow after him. Dean stood in the barn for a moment, and bent down to collect his knife. He ran his fingers along the handle; it was surprisingly warm from Castiel's touch. Warmth was something he lost a long time ago.

"You coming, idjit?" shouted Bobby, who was stood watching Dean from the door to the barn. Dean's eyes shot up from the blade, "Yeah yeah." He made his way across the room, and turned to take one last look inside the barn, as he pushed the door shut and joined Bobby in their walk across the field to his house.

It was the next day, when Dean's eyes fluttered open as the sunlight beat down on his face, when he heard the first argument caused by Cas. Staying motionless on the couch, Dean listened to his brother and Bobby discus the events of the night before in the next room.

"Sam, the so-called angel is Crowley's _son_. Why would he want to get Dean back from Hell? He wanted him there in the damn first place!"

"I don't know, Bobby...maybe he needs Dean for something? We can't just ignore what happened, after all, this Castiel brought Dean back to life, and I don't know about you but I'm grateful. For whatever reason, I have my brother back." Sam sighed, he sounded drained, like the weight of the world was heavy on his shoulders, "This could be important for Dean."

At that moment, Dean sat up, knocking a bottle of beer off the couch, it rolled along the floor and came to a stop at a foot. Dean, still half asleep, went to get the bottle, and then noticed the face stood before him. "Castiel?"

He simply stood, staring at Dean. Dean picked up the bottle and looked around, Bobby and Sam still arguing in the kitchen. "I left you without answers last night, Dean. But there is little to say to you. God needs you to do a job for him, a job only you can do. I know not what this job is, but I was told to raise you from Hell, and here you are." His facial expressions didn't change; he was still as stiff as Dean remembered.

"So, what, are you from Heaven or Hell? You say you're doing what God wants but you're the son of the King of Hell? What even are you?" Dean whispered angrily, trying to keep his voice down in order not to draw Bobby or Sam's attention. For some reason, part of his brain was telling him to keep this meeting a secret.

Castiel didn't answer, simply gazed at the floor and then dragged his eyes over to Dean's. The two just stood staring at each other for a while, into each other's eyes, like they were reading each other's souls. Then Castiel vanished, just like the night before, without so much as a goodbye.

None of them knew it yet, but the Prince of Hell was going to do anything for Dean, anything it took, to protect him. To save the righteous man, the man he had watched from the sky since he took his first breath on Earth. Dean was more important than any of them knew. Except for Castiel. He knew, and he knew he was put here to watch over him.


End file.
